Invisible Death

El Sid

According to the notes on Thomasina Hobson's clipboard, the super VIP guest was one Datuk Alif Sharfan bin Muhammad, a tycoon from Malaysia, owner of several freight ships, currently mixing up business with pleasure. While on honeymoon with his second wife, Sid Alif, as he should be addressed, had come to the island resort to sign a transport contract with Mr. St. Clair, a very big contract.

Oliver had laid down his honored guest's demands, from the simplest to the most complex: his bungalow suite should be the most secluded and discreet one, as a practicing Muslim, the gentleman did not approve of alcoholic beverages, no smoking in his presence. A selection of fruits and teas should be always available, a special brand of coffee for Turkish brewing, and most of all, total privacy. No one should intrude on the couple without express invitation. All in all, very simple requests, nothing fancy. In Thomasina's mind, simplicity was the marking of class. The more complicated the demands, the newer the money was. That guest was classy all right!

Thomasina plastered a smile on her face, her best welcoming grin, smoothed her strawberry blond hair one more time, pushing a hairpin tighter on her bun, and entered the airport's VIP lounge. Any business partner of Oliver's would be welcomed like a king on the island. This one, with his multimillion dollars contract to move enormous amounts of medical supplies and medicine around the world, even more so.

The only person in sight was an elderly gentleman, his back turned to her, pouring mint tea in a crystal cup, Arabian style. He turned around and pierced Thomasina with his gray-green eyes. Not tall, slightly built, he had gray hair and beard and was dressed as a Westerner, in a perfectly tailored three pieces dark blue suit, ivory linen shirt and silk tie. A thick gold wedding band adorned his left hand, and a silver metal ring shone on his right, where a Muslim beaded rosary danced between his fingers. All in that gentleman screamed of dignity, elegance and poise. With a curt bow of his head, he acknowledged Thomasina's presence.

"Sid Alif, the island of St. Mallots is honored to welcome you."

The faintest of all smiles lit up his face as he bowed his head ever so delicately one more time. "Thank you," he said in heavily accented English. "May I introduce you to my wife?"

A slim lady in traditional Muslim garb, a flowing robe and sheer shawls, gold and gem jewels gracing the tip of her lobes and covering her neck, hands and wrists, her hair hidden under the modest veil of her faith was coming from the ladies restroom, closing the door behind her. As she turned around to look at her husband, the surprise of recognition hit Thomasina full force. "Samihah! I can't believe it! Is that really you?"

Samihah Shah took off her glasses and stared at the blond woman in a charcoal gray pantsuit. "Thomasina Hobson? What a small world!" She turned to her husband. "Thomasina and I worked for Genomex once. She was head of public relations."

"Ah! I'm glad to meet you, Miss Hobson."

"Mr. Saint Clair would like to invite you for tea in his private office, Sid Alif, if you're not too tired, of course."

"It will be a pleasure. I'm looking forward to finally make Mr. St. Clair's acquaintance." He turned to Samihah. "Would you like to go directly to our rooms?"

"Not at all. I'd like to meet Mr. St. Clair myself." She smiled at the PR woman. "And I'd like to catch up with you, Thomasina. It's been a long time."

"You left Genomex after the power shift there, when Gabriel Ashlocke took over." Thomasina licked her lips. "Did you return there with Eckhart? I remember you were a friend of Rebecca Steyn's, and you know how the gossip went about them."

"No, I don't know how the gossip went about them."

Thomasina assumed a conspiratorial tone, her eyes glinting at the possibility of a good girl talk and rumormongering. "Everybody said they were lovers, Eckhart and Rebecca."